Fire and Feathers
by TempusFugitx
Summary: It's been two weeks since it rained fire and feathers and Sam and Dean are finally back on the job again. This time, there are some suspicious occurrences that take them back to Kermit. Little do they know, the angered angels have a plan for Sam; one nobody was expecting. The brothers must re-live their past and face the trials like never before in this post-season 8 fanfiction.
1. Chapter 1

"Are you sure you're up for this, Sammy?" Dean knew all to well that he had been coddling his little brother a lot lately because it always left a strange taste in his mouth. It's all too soft for Dean's palate but who could blame him? After all of what Sammy had told Dean the night they almost closed the gates to Hell, Dean _had_ to make sure that Sam knew there was nothing in the world that Dean would or ever could put before his little brother.

Sam rolled his eyes from the other side of the Impala, "I'm fine, Dean." His giant figure ducked down and slipped into shotgun.

The Winchesters had heard about a lot of disturbances ever since the angels fell from heaven but this was the first case they'd decided to explore. Sam was especially keen to investigate, though he wouldn't tell Dean why. They were going to Kermit and Dean had suspected that Sam had put that time behind them.

The Impala purred and then roared to life and the elder Winchester felt that familiar surge of anticipation shoot through his veins like it did before every hunt. The thrill never got old.

Dean wondered if Sammy felt the same thrill, if his father or mother had ever felt it. Or if he was the only Winchester to let the hunt become apart of who he was. There was no denying that being a hunter made you who you were, but Dean often felt different. Like it wasn't just apart of his character but apart of his DNA, a part of his very blood. Perhaps, it was a coping mechanism, Dean had thought of that, but whatever it was, hunting made Dean feel _good _despite all of the shit that was constantly happening around them.

When the angels fell, Dean was ashamed because he'd felt good then too. While he held his brother against the Impala and watched all Heaven break loose, the elder Winchester had felt himself fill with the anticipation of the trouble to come. The angles wouldn't fall without a fight and it was up to Sam and Dean to control their rage. He was filled with hope but he was ashamed; he should have been upset, or sad, or something, but he just couldn't bring himself to Sam's level of empathy. He'd break if he ever did that.

"You'll tell me if you feel so much as a goddam headache, right, Sammy?" Dean pulled into the interstate and merged with the modern cars that held innocent families, cheating spouses, and drunken teenagers while he questioned his little brother who carried the elements to shut the door to hell for good under his skin. No family was without complication.

Heat spread like wildfire over Dean's right side; it was Sam's gaze that started the blaze. Dean could almost hear his little brother growling, _Quit acting like I'm a child, Dean._ He didn't need to look back at Sam to know that even if he agreed to let Dean know if the trials were taking their toll, Sam wouldn't tell the truth. Like always, Sam'd lie to spare Dean's concern and commiseration, and suffer alone.

So, Dean didn't say anything else; he just drove towards the supernatural.

* * *

A sign came into view several hours later reading: _Kermit, Texas. Pop. 5,763._ Driving down North Pine Street, Dean rolled down his window and breathed in the Texas air and immediately regretted it. It smelled of fertilizer and manure.

"Goddman cow shit," Dean muttered rolling his window back up.

"Oh, come on. It's not that bad."

"Not that bad? Huh. What's got you all nostalgic for Kermit? You hated the Muppets."

Sam didn't reply and that made Dean worry. He looked over at his brother for a moment only to find the big guy's lips tilted in a half-smile. Maybe Dean should quit being such a pessimistic worrier and trust his brother.

The Impala rolled to the end of Pine Street and Dean found they were at a crossroads. He hated crossroads and every time he drove through one he could never shake the uneasy feeling from his bones. The Impala sat at the intersection, waiting for Dean to choose a direction. But Sam had the map and the boy was lost in his head again.

"Sam," Dean hit his brother in the shoulder. "Which way." He said it deliberate and slow in case his brother took a while to come out of La La Land.

Sam blinked and looked at the crumpled paper in his hands, "Uh… West Austin until you get to South Poplar Street on your right and follow that to Jim Sharp Boulevard."

Dean hit the gas drove in the direction his brother told him.

"Jim Sharp Boulevard, eh? How'd you like to be a famous bull rider and have a road named after you?" Sam wasn't listening but Dean continued anyway. "I mean, you make your fortune trying not to fall off a bull and then for the rest of your days and after Death comes a knockin' people are constantly driving over your name. Jim Sharp. Jim Sharp. Jim Sharp needs to be paved. Jim Sharp just popped my tire," Dean seemed to be tasting the name in his mouth, "I feel for him, man."

After about eight minutes the brothers arrived at the Kermit Inn. When Dean parked he noticed that Sam's smile had faded and he now held a slight grimace about his features. He was about to ask Sam if he was okay and then thought better about it. He slammed the door shut and walked to the front entrance of the Inn with his brother behind him.

Dean ordered one room with two singles, as usual, and took the keys from the clerk. They walked along the outside of the building towards a two-story structure and entered the room that was on the top floor on the far corner.

"Great balls of fire, there's a mini fridge!"

"More beer!" Sam mocked halfheartedly.

Dean shot his brother a look. "Ha ha."

"There's a place down the road called 'Jimmy's Liquor' if you're desperate."

"How the hell do you know that?"

This took Sam aback. He didn't answer for a few seconds and it was long enough for Dean to realize that the answer was a lie, "I saw a sign on our way in."

Dean coughed and dropped the duffle bag of guns, salt, and other supernatural-killing weapons onto the bed closest to the door, "Yeah, whatever." With that, Dean left the room and made his way to Jimmy's Liquor.

* * *

When Dean returned he hadn't expected Sam to still be in their room. He'd expected Sam to sneak off and do something behind his brother's back to give Dean further reason to believe his brother was hiding something again. But there he was, large as life, hunched over his laptop researching recent disturbances, for a place to begin their investigation.

Dean's thoughts floated back to the night the Angels had fallen and he kicked himself. Sam had told Dean that his greatest sin was how he felt he's failed his brother. And at that very moment Dean was doubting Sam. He was completely disregarding what he should have learned. If Sam knew of his suspicion it certainly wouldn't help their position. So, with all of his conscious effort, Dean pushed back his supposition and loaded the mini fridge with beer.

"There was a burrito place down the road too. I thought we could eat in tonight."

"Sounds good," Sam looked up from his screen for the first time. "I found something. There have been three consecutive fires in the past three weeks. The first was in Plaza Park, the second in Walton Park, and the third in Boy Scout Park."

"_Boy Scout _Park? Really?"

Sam ignored Dean's remark and moved on, "The strange thing here isn't that the fires have all been dubbed as created by nature, the heat of Texas, but that there is a pattern in the fire."

This got Dean's interest. "Pattern." He moved behind Sam, bracing himself against his brother's chair to get a better look at the map Sam had on the screen.

"The fires are travelling south through Kermit. There are seven major parks in Kermit; the fires could have happened anywhere but the parks are burning down in order."

"That's not nature."

"Nope."

"So not fallen angels? They were all pretty fiery."

"As far as we know they all fell at the same time but I wouldn't say no to the angel theory."

"Why?" Dean stepped back from Sam and moved to the bag of burritos on the counter.

"Well if I was an angel who got kicked out of Heaven I'd be pretty pissed."

Dean spoke through a mouthful of food, "You think the angels that fell here are trying to get Metatron's attention?"

Sam shook his head, "No. Kermit's too small and it's in the middle of nowhere, the closest city is twenty-three miles away. There has to be another reason why they'd be starting these fires—if it is the angles. Anyway," Sam said reaching for his burrito, "they only have one more park to hit before the pattern is forfeit."

"Well, at least we know where they're going next."

Sam looked at the map on his laptop and read out loud, "Kermit City Park."

"Original." Dean raised his eyebrow sarcastically and stuffed the rest of the burrito in his mouth. Dean was at the door before Sam could even suggest that they investigate _after_ eating. "Are you coming?" Dean's words were garbled through food. But Sam had already mastered that language.

"That's the fastest I've seen you move since… ever!" Sam stood sliding his laptop under his arm.

"All those guilty of arson should burn."

"But Cass could be with them."

Dean didn't respond. The brothers turned off the lights and headed to the site of the last park fire.

Next: "What's their M.O?"

"Crowley would be proud."

"Sold. Sold. Sold"

"Damnit, Sammy."


	2. Chapter 2: A Plan of Action

"How is this even qualified as a park? This is smaller than the Impala."

That was an exaggeration but Sam had to admit: the park was unfortunately small. When he'd lived in Kermit he had never come to this park; he never even knew it existed. His mind had been on other things…

Behind them a dog barked and Sam nearly jumped so high he could have joined the Transformer angel Metatron in heaven. Fortunately, it wasn't the bark he'd become accustomed to and Sam breathed a sigh of relief; though his heart was still pounding.

She wouldn't show up here, not now. Sam tried to tell himself he shouldn't worry, but he couldn't stop thinking about her. Her. Amelia: She was alive because he'd stayed away. That was all he usually had to tell himself to keep from regretting his choice to leave her behind, but today those reassurances weren't working. A part of him _wanted _to see her as much as he knew he shouldn't.

Sam and Dean were now walking towards the singed area of the field of grass that carpeted the park. There weren't any trees in the area that had been burned. It was just grass.

"It couldn't have been a big fire. I mean the grass isn't what I'd call _lush_."

"So that brings us back to the question of _why…_" Sam took a step forward and squatted to get a better look at the dead lawn. "What's their M.O?"

"There's nothing here for us to play with, Sammy. No clues, no nothing. I say we just go and camp out at Kermit City Park and wait for the band of angels."

Sam stood and patted his shoulders, "We need to see if there's a pattern in the grass."

"How do you suppose we do that, big boy? There aren't any trees close enough for us to see the grass."

Sam patted his shoulders again.

Then Dean understood and he groaned, "Oh come on."

The younger Winchester nodded and Dean just glared but didn't protest.

In a tangle of arms and legs, Dean climbed onto the shoulders of his tall little brother and scanned the burned land.

"There isn't any chance you could stretch a little, eh, Sammy?"

Sam grunted under his brother's weight, "I'm a moose not a giraffe, Dean."

Dean laughed nearly knocking himself backwards, "Crowley would be proud, Sammy but he's dubbed you as a giraffe too. So, Stretch that neck!"

"Har har."

Dean skimmed the land once more and shook his head, trying very carefully to climb down, "There isn't any pattern in the grass. Every square inch is burned." On solid ground, Dean looked towards the Impala, "So shall we Johnny Cash it in Kermit City Park, then?"

"Well," Sam began to walk towards the Impala with Dean, "I'm pretty sure the fire will be started tomorrow night. These fires are happening in a pattern. Not just a directional pattern but, by the sounds of it, they aren't being started at a random time either. The first fire, in Plaza Park, happened one week after the angels fell. Then the second two days after, then three days after in Walton Park, then Boy Scout Park four days after." Sam opened the passenger door of the Impala, "Kermit City Park shouldn't happen until five days after Boy Scout. So, tomorrow night."

"You have a brilliant mind, you know that, Sammy?"

Sam threw Dean a mock smile, "Well," and he ducked down into the car.

Dean wondered if Sammy noticed that he was scratching at his arms. Dean hoped it was just absent-minded action but Sam wouldn't leave it alone. Perhaps the trials were like a scab: once it started to heal it would itch. Maybe Sam was just itchy.

The trials scared Dean more than he figured they scared Sam himself. Sam had come to peace with the idea of the trials; he believed that they were purifying him. Dean didn't agree but Sam had always had a way of talking himself into doing the brave and righteous thing and Dean didn't want to be the big brother who would ruin that. So, whatever Sam did to make the trials tolerable for himself, Dean decided to trust his brother. It was a hard thing to do. Not because he didn't trust Sam— Dean felt he spent most of his life trying to persuade his brother that Dean trusted him (minus the period of bloodlust)— but because it was difficult for Dean to just step back and allow his brother to bear the burden and not be able to help. Sammy would always be Dean's little brother and with that role came certain territory, certain instincts that were impossible to shake.

* * *

When they arrived back at the motel dusk came and went. To Dean, it was time for a beer but he felt good for the first time in a while. He was on an actual case again with his brother after what felt like forever and staying in for the night would only dampen his spirits.

"Know of any bars 'round here, Sam?"

But Sam didn't answer.

When they'd entered their room Sam had mumbled "Bathroom" and Dean hadn't taken any notice of it, he'd just steared clear of that area because no one wanted to be anywhere near Sam when he was doing his… buisness. But Dean called out again and there was no answer.

"Sammy?" This time he was more frantic. "Sammy!"

Dean was just about to kick down the door when it opened slowly and Sam's head popped out. He was foaming at the mouth with toothpaste.

"What the Hell, Sam?"

Holding up one finger, Sam disappeared back into the bathroom. Dean heard his little brother spit and rinse before walking back out into the room again.

"What's the matter?"

"_What's the matter_?" The elder Winchester's voice was incredulous. In seconds Dean's fear had turned into rage. It was time like these Dean wanted to punch his brother out. "Didn't you hear me calling you?"

Sam shook his head.

"Damn it, Sammy."

"What?"

Dean wanted to say; _I thought you were dead or something, you idjit!_ But bit his tongue. "Do you know of any bars in Kermit?" If he concentrated really well he could get his voice to stay level and calm.

Sam eyed his brother for a moment and told him of the only one he knew of that was close by. When Dean offered the idea that they both go to get a drink or three Sam declined. It was the last place he had met Amelia face to face and he didn't want to do that again. "I think I'll get an early night."

"You sure?" In other words Dean was asking, _Are you sure you're okay? Are you sure you aren't, you know, dying?_

But then Sam gave Dean the smile that comforted and reassured and calmed all at the same time. No matter how many times Dean had been privy to seeing that smile on the sidelines when they were on a hunt, he was still vulnerable to those pearly whites when they were spent on him.

Deflated, Dean retreated waving his goodbye and promised to have one for Sam.

* * *

At any moment Sam expected his peace to be shattered by the trials that still lingered within him. He could feel their power ebbing inside him but in the past two weeks he'd managed to partially ignore it. Only when he was alone did he begin to worry if the trials would take hold and Dean would return to find that he was the only Winchester left.

It had never once troubled Sam that he himself may die. What made him nervous was leaving Dean alone. Dean was capable of many things, many dangerous and irrational things, and Sam often saw himself as a neutralizer. Without Sam by his big brother's side there would be no one to look out for him.

"Damn this life." Sam was perched on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, face in his hands. "Damn it all to Hell."

Then, at that moment, Sam thought of Amelia and for the first time since they had arrived in Kermit he actively wondered what she was doing.

Then, as if some force greater than himself compelled him, Sam stood and he walked out into the night. His feet guided him down the Jim Sharp Road and onto **_. **He was moving towards Amelia's house. He wasn't going to knock on the door. No. He would just make sure she was okay. He had to. He owed her that much.

So, he walked in the night remembering all the times he'd spent with Amelia. Running over the dog, meeting Amelia, fixing the tap in Amelia's room, falling in love with Amelia, loving Amelia, meeting her father, loving Amelia some more, and then breaking her heart.

Before Sam knew it, he was outside that all too familiar house but I wasn't really all the same. There was a sign on the front lawn that made Sam stop dead in his tracks.

"Sold." _Sold. Sold. Sold._ The word rattled around in Sam's head. There weren't any lights on in the house; no cars on the driveway; no sign of life whatsoever.

Sam sank deep within himself as he came to understand what this could mean: he may never see her again. It also meant that she had found a way to completely move on from her time with Sam. He now understood how Dean must have felt about loosing Ben and Lisa. Of course loosing them was self-inflicted and therefore, in a way, he felt was much worse than how Sam felt at the moment. Though, Sam still felt extraordinarily low.

"Can I help you, young man?" the small voice of a small woman sounded behind Sam's left shoulder.

He turned and looked down at an elderly woman who was beaming up at him like he was her very own grandson.

"Er… yes, actually. Can you tell me if the people who lived there have moved out already?"

The woman nodded easily. "They moved out last week, if I'm not mistaken."

"Oh," Sam chocked on the word, "Thank you." And he began to walk away.

"Would you like a drink?"

"Hmm?" Sam turned to look at the old lady.

"Would you care to have a nice drink with a lonely old lady?"

Sam smiled but shook his head, "No, no thank you. I don't drink."

"Neither do I!" She sounded offended. "I meant tea. I only offer tea or water, young man. Alcohol burns the soul."

Sam stopped walking and turned back to the woman. She held out her hand, "My name is Myrtle Thatcher. Would you like to come in for a drink?"

Sam was going to refuse her again but then he decided otherwise. Something about this woman was very inviting. Plus, Sam couldn't remember the last time he'd had a good cup of tea. It was probably when he was living with Amelia. He never was much of a coffee drinker. "That would be very nice, Miss Thatcher. I'm Sam—" He thought for a moment about making up his last name but again, something about the woman made him tell the truth. "Winchester. Sam Winchester."

"Please, call me Myrtle," The woman smiled and motioned for him to follow her.

Myrtle reminded Sam of what his mother may have looked like in her late years: kind, inviting, and happy, and so filled with promise and future despite her age. Myrtle radiated all of this and more. Sam mused that whomever she loved and those that loved her back would be some extraordinarily lucky people.

They walked up the street and around into a crescent. Myrtle's house was on the left and it was glowing with honey-coloured light from the inside. The woman turned around and smiled at Sam before they entered, "How does English Breakfast sound?"

Next: "Sam was full of secrets"

"Leaving his little brother behind"

"I hope you like it strong"

"Get them back into heaven"


	3. Chapter 3: The New and The Old

Dean had done a horrible thing. He hadn't gone to the bar. He'd waited to see if his brother was going to go for a walk. Originally, the plan wasn't to follow Sam because of suspicion, it was more so that Dean could make sure Sam didn't collapse somewhere Dean couldn't find him. Before Sam got his soul back all those months ago, Sam would go jogging every morning, or night, ever since he hit puberty. But lately, Sam had been through so much shit that he hadn't felt up to it. Dean had given up wondering what Sam did in the year he was in Purgatory so that was only his estimation. Dean figured Sam wanted time alone to go for a walk, or a little run.

And he was right. Sam had left their room about fifteen minutes after Dean left. Following him at a snail's pace, hiding behind trees and buildings, Dean trailed his little brother. It wasn't long, though, until Dean realized Sam really did know where he was going, and an even shorter amount time still, that Dean realized Sam had a destination in mind.

Sammy was full of secrets, Dean hated it, but it was true. His little brother had always been quiet and Dean had learned that it was trait in Sam that he'd never be able to beat. So, when Sam stopped outside a sold house, he was surprised to find himself… surprised. Obviously this house meant something to Sammy because as he stood there, Dean witnessed his brother's entire body deflate. It was something Dean doubted anybody else in the world would be able to notice because Sam was so tall, but being his big brother, Dean saw it all—well most of it anyway—and something was unfortunately wrong here.

Then a small woman walked up to Sam and led him away. He heard the words "drinks" and "tea" in the woman's voice and then Dean saw Sam nod.

So his little brother preferred the company of old women than that of his own flesh and blood. Dean was hurt. He shouldn't have been, but he was. Dean turned around and walked straight to the bar leaving his little brother behind.

The first thing Sam noticed as he walked into the old lady's house was the curtain of beads that were strung up to separate the entrance hall from the living room. It wasn't a very big house, but as Sam emerged into the main room he was overcome by a sense of calm and frank coziness. It was a heavily upholstered room that sung the praises of naturopathy, Buddhism, Wicca, and Christianity all together and in harmony. There were soft looking couches and floor pillows and windows with rich coloured curtains. The lack of a TV or radio didn't surprise Sam at all; it just made him smile.

Myrtle lit a match and placed the flame onto a short stub of a stick. When she did this it didn't light, it simply smoked. In seconds, Sam's olfactory senses were engulfed by the scent of burning lavender.

"Hold this," Myrtle handed the incense stick to Sam. "I'll go make the tea. Make sure you get it in all the corners."

Lacking the choice of anything better to do, Sam walked the stub around the room. He lifted it high towards the ceiling and down low letting his instincts guide his hand. Sam highly doubted what he was doing had a formula. He wondered, as he worked, if the incense had anything to do with warding off unwanted spirits. He smiled at himself rememberingMissouri Mosleyand all the work she had done to help Sam and Dean rid themselves of the spirits in their old house all those years ago.

Sam worked his way into the last corner and absentmindedly smoked the corners. His mind recalled seeing Wiccan symbols when he had first walked in and his entire body went rigid. How could it not have crossed his mind before? _She could be a witch_. _She could have slipped a hex bag on him at any point on their walk._

Sam quietly cursed himself and then wished he hadn't. He fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed Dean's number. It rang and rang and rang finally the answering machine picked up "This is Dean's other, other phone—" and Sam cursed again hanging up.

If he left, there was no telling what Myrtle would do in response.

As if on cue, the little woman walked into the room with two cups of tea. "English Breakfast." She handed the cup to Sam, "I hope you like it strong."

Sam nodded and stood holding the incense like a deer caught in headlights. Myrtle had caught Sam so far off guard that he was stuck in a transient state as he tried to figure out his next move.

As if reading Sam's mind, Myrtle took the still smoking stub from his fingers and smiled. "Have a seat."

Myrtle had gestured to a floor pillow and so Sam's lanky and large frame sunk to the ground holding the tea as steadily as he could.

"You don't need to be afraid of me, young hunter."

That made Sam start, "I— uh—I'm not—"

The little old woman waved her hand without a care in the world, smoke swirling around her head, "You don't need to worry about me. My husband was a hunter. You don't need to be afraid of me."

Again Sam found himself at a loss for words.

Myrtle didn't seem bothered by Sam's missing vocabulary.

"My husband died six years ago while he was hunting a shifter. Carl was very good at what he did but the son of a bitch got the better of him that day."

The sudden cursing from the old woman's mouth was about as blatant as lights that direct an airplane for landing.

"Excuse my French." Myrtle took a sip of her tea and Sam eyed his cup warily. "Anyway I'm quite learned in his field of work. He told me certain things over the years. That's why I felt impelled to know you, Sam Winchester."

"How did you know I was a hunter?" Sam asked still unsure of how safe he was in this woman's house. Still, his surroundings were impossibly soothing and most of his judgment called out for him to relax but the ever-vigilant hunter side of him demanded wariness.

"The way you stand."

Sam shook his head and daringly took a sip of his tea. It was, quite possibly, the best cup he'd ever had in his entire life. "So, my posture's my tell?"

Myrtle smiled, "You can tell a lot about a person if you study their body language."

Sam suddenly became very nervous and tried to sit up straight without doing it too obviously knowing all the while Myrtle could probably tell what he was trying to do.

She tittered and the laugh lines by the sides of her eyes wrinkled deeply. She couldn't have been younger than seventy-five and yet she held the vitality of a fifty-five year old.

Sam smiled despite himself and took another sip of the glorious tea.

"You're here because the angels aren't you?"

He knew he shouldn't have been, but Sam was shocked. "You know?"

"Ha! Of course I know, young man. I may be old but I am not senile."

"I never meant—"

She held up her hand and smiled again, "No need to worry, my boy. I only mean to help you in your search."

"Search for what? Sorry?"

"The angles, Sam. The angels. And to get them back into heaven."

Sam frowned. He wanted to tell her he hadn't the slightest clue as to why they had fallen in the first place and therefore had no way of knowing how to get them back up into Heaven. He thought about Castiel and wondered if he had fallen too and where on Earth Cass could possibly be. "It's not going to be that easy."

"When is anything a hunter ever does easy?"

Sam's mouth formed a lop-sided grin as he took the woman in. _She's still alive!_ _She was married to a hunter and survived decades with him and then many years without him._ Sam looked at Myrtle and decided she was a miracle and downed the rest of his tea.

"Will you accept my assistance, Sam?"

The young Winchester nodded with new found hope. Not just for the angels but for Sam's own future. Maybe being back in Kermit wasn't such a bad thing. One day, when all of this was over Sam would find someone to fall in love with and he wouldn't have to be afraid anymore.

Dean was leaning heartily over the shoulder of a pretty brunette woman who wouldn't give him the time of day. She told him her name was Amy, and in return, Dean told her that his name was Charlie. She smiled at him and laughed at his jokes like she meant it but there was something about the way Amy held herself that told Dean he wouldn't be going to bed with her that night.

Despite the fact, Dean found himself interested in her. He wouldn't mind getting to know her more before he did ask her to bed. So, he offered to buy her a drink and asked her about herself.

At first, the information came out in drips, he learned she was recently divorced, and was thinking of leaving Kermit in the near future. But Amy didn't offer much more than that. So, Dean made a move telling her that he and his brother were in town to find long lost family.

"My brother's a tech wiz and one day he said to me, 'We've got family in Kermit, Charlie. He said he'd found them on the Internet."

After taking a sip of her drink she asked him, "What's your bother's name?"

"Sam. He's my little brother but he's a monster of a size. You got any brothers or sisters, Amy?"

Dean had been eyeing her while he spoke and it seemed that something had made the girl slightly distant.

"Is everything okay?"

Amy shook herself. "Yeah, I think I should be going."

"Hey, did I say something wrong? Don't go, Amy."

She hopped off her bar stool and hung her purse over her shoulder thanking Dean for the drink. "I'm sorry about this but I've got to work tomorrow."

Dean stood and nearly offered her his number but stopped himself, "I hope to see you again soon, Amy."

Before she left, she flashed a brilliant smile at Dean that promised she felt the same and then she was gone.

Next: "Watching over me?"

"Throbbing fiery pain"

"Sammy?"

"She knows about the angels."


	4. Chapter 4: Unrelenting

Sam had told Myrtle that he would be back with his brother during the day and made his move to leave. It was well past one in the morning and Sam felt that he had well outlived his stay.

Before she let Sam go, Myrtle disappeared into the kitchen and appeared a few moments again with an unopened box of English Breakfast teas. "You can share them with your brother."

"How did you know I had a brother?"

Sam had pointedly made the decision to not mention his brother the entire night until about half an hour before his departure when Myrtle asked about him.

Myrtle smiled as she led Sam to the door, "He followed you last night. I saw him lurking behind the trees watching over you even before I approached."

"Watching over me? How did you know he was my brother?"

"Body language, Sam, and don't be mad at him. I could tell he was concerned for you."

Sam sighed and smiled. "I won't be mad."

"There's a good boy," She threw Sam a playful smile and wished him well and watched him disappear into the night.

If there was a god, he had certainly been the one who had sent Myrtle into the Winchester's midst. On his way home Sam had tried to call Dean on his cell again to no avail. _He's probably gone home with a woman he met at the bar._ It wouldn't be the first time.

So, Sam didn't wait up for his brother figuring they wouldn't meet again until morning. The sooner he slept, the sooner Sam figured he'd be able to tell Dean about Myrtle in the morning. She was like a piece of treasure and Sam was very fond of his finding. In the few hours they had known each other Sam had taken a particular liking to this woman for all she was and all she represented.

Not too long after Sam had fallen asleep, Dean walked into their room expecting it to be bereft of his brother. So, the elder Winchester was surprised to see Sam passed out on his bed as if he'd been there for hours.

All the anger he had felt towards his little brother the entire night disappeared as he watched Sammy sleep. Dean couldn't remember the last time he's seen Sam slumber so soundly, so peacefully.

Dean moved forward and wrapped Sam up in the covers. No matter how large Sam may ever be and however peculiar taking care of him may look to strangers, it was always Dean's first priority. Doing so filled Dean will a sense of accomplishment more than almost everything else he did in his life.

Content that his brother was safe; Dean slipped into his own bed and fell into an easy sleep.

_Nothing good ever lasts long_, Sam found himself thinking when he awoke to a tremendous burning sensation in his arms. He sat up in a deep sweat and checked his body wondering if it was on fire but instead of being on fire he discovered that he was on the floor and his arms were glowing again and it was as if he was ending the trials all over again.

Standing, Sam propelled himself to the bathroom and didn't quite make it through the door before stumbling back onto the floor.

He heard something behind him but didn't bother to look. All Sam wanted was to make the pain stop. He sat up and tried to stand. He tried to force his limbs to straighten but he didn't seem to have enough energy.

Then a familiar face became visible before him. It was Dean; crouched in the floor, concern painting his face the elder Winchester said one heavy word, "Sammy?"

Sam showed Dean his arms and grunted under the throbbing fiery pain.

"What can I do, Sammy?" Dean normally kept it cool in tough situations, even in the direst of straights. Where Sammy was concerned, was another issue. Like Sam had said all those years ago: he was his brother's weak spot. "What can I do?"

It was hard for Sam to think and for a few minutes he had no idea what he wanted. What was up and what was down? His pain was quickly becoming much worse than the pain he had originally felt. Then, for a second, the fog cleared and he decided.

"Cold. I need cold water," he grimaced and then continued, "To the shower, Dean. Please."

Dean never had a problem carrying his little brother despite his size and if Sam wasn't about to pass out Sam would have been impressed as the elder Winchester helped him to the shower and ran the cold water.

Sam sat in the stream of water until the pain was gone and he shook with cold.

Dean wrapped a towel around his brother's shoulders just before Sam passed out right there in the wet shower.

When he woke in the morning, Sam was aware of the most uncomfortable damp sensation. In a few moments, he began to realize he'd never made it back to bed. Sitting up, removing the wet towel from around his shoulders, he saw Dean slumped over by the sink, fast asleep.

Sam contemplated staying where he was until Dean woke up but knowing his brother could sleep well past dawn, Sam decided he didn't want to be stationary for the best part of the day. So, he tried to stand up as quietly as possible. Unfortunately, thanks to his towering size, Sam was never the stealthy kind of guy and woke Dean up before he had even stepped out of the shower.

"Sammy?" Dean came too and took in his damp brother. "My god, you look like a skyscraper from down here."

Sam smiled, "Who is that? Did an ant just talk?" Sam squinted, pretending he couldn't see.

With a hand from Sam, Dean stood and regarded his brother more carefully, "You feeling better this morning, big guy?"

"Like it never happened."

Dean glowered at him, "Seriously."

"Seriously," Sam said with a shrug. It was the truth but Sam couldn't blame is brother for not believing him. "I promise. I feel like it never happened, Dean."

Dean relaxed a little. "Good." And exited the bathroom, "We have a big day a head of us and I need you on you're A-game."

"Dean." Sam called out from behind his brother and emerged from the bathroom himself.

His brother turned around, "What?"

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it." Dean waved his hand as an attempt to stop his brother from saying anything else.

"No really, Dean, I'd probably be dead years ago if it wasn't for you."

"You probably would."

Sam laughed knowing all to well that that was about as mushy his brother would get. Sam knew how much Dean hated these "chick-flick" moments so the younger Winchester decided to go find breakfast, "I've got to tell you about someone I met last night, Dean. She knows about the Angels."

Next: "Falling had been the most incredibly..."

"I didn't ask for this"

"Dean was throttling his mug"

"That woman you left behind?"


	5. Chapter 5: Meetings

Falling had been the most incredibly unpleasant experience of Israfel's existence. As much as he wanted to go back, Israfel often wondered how much more disagreeable the ascent would be if Metatron ever let his brothers back into heaven.

Being on Earth was also something that left a bad taste in Israfel's mouth. Trying to become one of the humans was taxing and they all had such little sense of civility. Something about the vessel Israfel was now occupying was unsettling. He'd always imagined that having a human figure would be like an anchor for his soul, as apposed to the untethered being that he was created as. Perhaps, he was unsettled because Israfel was forced into his vessel and the man he was inhabiting had not provided his consent.

_Are you out of your mind? Why would I ever _agree_ to having you live in me?!_

That was his vessel again, listening into Israfel's thoughts.

_It's my mind. I have every right to listen to your thoughts as you listen to mine._

"I am inside you, human."

_My name's Carl but yes, very good, you see my point? You can't expect privacy._

"I didn't ask for this," Israfel growled.

_Neither did I. We're on the same level here. Whatever this weird shit is, we're in it together. And until this guy 'Metatron,' whoever he is, lets you go, we need to figure this out._

"Metatron is the scribe of God and my brother. You will speak of him with respect."

_But he's the reason we're in this situation. How can you_—

"He is my brother, that is all that matters."

_Angels have a soft spot for family or something?_

"Don't you?" Carl didn't answer and Israfel moved on, "Where are we, human?"

_Carl._

With a haggard sigh Israfel complied, "Carl, my apologies. Where are we?"

_Well considering how long you've been walking me—us—we could be in Texas somewhere. I thought you knew where you were going._

"No, Carl, I have no idea where I'm going. I just know I need to keep walking."

Dean was throttling his mug of coffee with both of his hands as if the existence of caffeine was not guaranteed. He often wondered what he would do without his morning fix especially after a night of heavy drinking.

Sam was in the middle of telling Dean all about where he had gone the previous night, which intimately surprised Dean. The elder Winchester was surprised even further to find out Sam and the woman named Myrtle had never met on previous occasion.

"I've already been to Kermit, Dean."

"I'm your brother, not an idiot."

Sam made Dean's least favorite face where Sam sighs and frowns at the same time as if Dean had been the one to do something wrong. "I never said you were an idiot, Dean. I'm trying to tell you that year you were away, I spent a lot of that time here and I _never _came across Myrtle from what I can remember."

Dean was getting aggravated. He didn't want to bring up the topic of idle Sam while Dean fought for his life in Pergatory. He just wanted to meet this lady Sam seemed to be worshipping and leave. "Why is that something you've suddenly decided to share?"

Sam frowned again and leaned back as if to distance himself from Dean's sour mood, "Because I lived—I was staying with someone almost around the corner from where Myrtle lives."

"That woman you left behind?"

"Dean."

"That woman who took up all your time?"

"Dean. Stop." Sam leaned forward again and lowered his voice. "I'm sorry I didn't look for you. But I mean, how many times can we die and come back? How much longer is Death going to allow our resurrections?"

Dean wasn't paying attention. Instead he was smiling and looking out the window. Sam looked too but he couldn't see a thing from his angle. "You get this one will you, Sammy? I'll see you outside, there's someone I want you to meet."

Before Sam could protest, Dean was out of the diner and on the street, all qualms forgotten.

"Amy!" he called out. The woman turned around frowning at first but when Dean jogged up beside her she smiled. "I didn't think we'd be meeting each other this soon."

The woman named Amy let out a small laugh, "Neither did I."

"Look, I want you to meet my brother," Dean made a general reference behind him. "He should be on his way sometime soon."

Amy looked at her watch and forced a smile, "Look, Charlie. I'm late for work as it is. We'll have to meet again some other time."

Dean took the opportunity in stride, "When do you get off for lunch?"

Amelia smiled genuinely then, "One."

"Want to meet at the diner then?"

"You really are persistent," Amy said walking backwards, away from Dean.

Dean gave her a lopsided smile; "I get it from my dad."

Amy waved and disappeared around a building. It seemed like the conversation had never happened.

Mere seconds later, Sam appeared by his brother's side.

"Who was that you were talking to?"

Dean looked up at his brother trying to decipher what he had just heard in Sam's voice. Was it pain, suspicion, nostalgia?

"You okay, man?"

Sam wasn't looking at his brother. He was looking in the direction Amy had walked off, "Who was that you were talking too?"

"Someone I met at the bar last night. We're meeting up for lunch."

Sam looked down at his brother, "We?"

"You too, buddy," Dean patted Sam in the back letting him lead the way to Myrtle's.

Israfel was no longer in control of his own direction: that much had become clear to him when he tried to break the path every that fiber of his being was telling him to follow.

_Hey. Don't you blame me, bud. I'm a prisoner in my own goddamned body._

"You are not damned; you are the vessel to Israfel The Burning One. I am an Angel: you are blessed.

_Well thanks_.

"We are getting close."

_Do you think this is Metatron?_

"No. If this is an Angel it has to be one of greater power. Possibly an archangel."

_Shit_.

"Excuse me?"

_Sorry. Human thing. I get that you are "The Burning One" but what does that make you? Are you an archangel too?_

"Now, Carl. I am a Seraph. Powerful, but not as powerful as an Archangel."

Now that they had hit the town of Kermit they were walking past a lot of people who looked at Carl as if he was insane.

_Can you stop talking out loud, man? People are going to have me committed."_

"Humans are unfortunately judgmental aren't they?"

_Israfel!_

Israfel apologized through thought but their conversation ended. Both were simply interested in where they were going to end up.

Sam knew his brother well enough to sense Dean's suspicion. They were no longer on the floor cushions; instead Dean had seated himself on the couch and leaned on his elbows studying Myrtle and her house.

"Sammy here says you know about the Angels."

"I do." Myrtle smiled as she placed a cup of tea in front of the brothers and took her own seat.

"Because your husband was a hunter?" Sam shot Dean a hard look but he just continued on, "Most hunters we meet are surprised to learn that they actually exist."

"Well I should suspect they all know about their existence now."

"Myrtle, we believe the Angels are starting the fire's in the parks."

The old woman thought for a moment and slowly nodded, "I can see how that would make sense but why?"

Sam shrugged. "We have no idea. We don't even know why the Angels fell in the first place."

"What's your plan of action then?"

Dean spoke up, "You still haven't answered my question. How do you know about the Angels?"

"I am a believer, Dean. All it took for me to realize it was Angles that were falling out of the sky and not comets was a simple glance into the heavens as they fell. Plus, I am fortunate to have all of the lore on the supernatural that my husband kept stashed away in the basement."

"Sam said that your husband was killed on the hunt. How exactly did that happen, _Myrtle_?"

"Dean!" Sam stood, completely appalled.

Dean stood too, standing close enough to his brother to smell the tea on his breath. "You always seem to have trouble making the wrong friends, Sam. I'm just trying to make sure—"

"Here it is again. You don't trust me, Dean. You never have. I am simply a burden on your shoulders that you don't have the heart to put out of his misery. Myrtle is _not_ Ruby. We can trust her."

Myrtle was the next to stand, "Don't worry about it, Sam. Dean is simply doing his job as a brother."

Sam closed his eyes and took a breath, "I can't do this anymore, Dean."

"Sammy, don't—"

"No, Dean, listen—"

"No, you listen, you big ape. I don't trust anyone but you. Haven't you wrapped that giant brain around that fact yet? Or are you just extremely slow when it comes to your own flesh and blood?"

Sam sat down defeated.

Dean and Myrtle followed suit.

"That was quite possibly the quickest argument we've ever had."

Sam actually laughed at that comment dousing Dean in a shower of pride in his ability to make Sam smile.

Myrtle, Sam, and Dean, all turned towards the beaded curtain that covered the entrance to the main hall. Through it emerged a woman about the same age as the Winchesters holding a pile of mail.

"Didn't you check the box this morning, grandma?"

Myrtle stood and the girl looked up suddenly speechless and motionless.

"Sylvia, I'd like you to meet Sam and Dean Winchester," Myrtle gestured to them respectively. "They are hunters like your grandfather."

Sylvia handed her mother the mail and took a seat on the floor pillow across from the brothers, "You're here about the Angels?"

The brothers nodded but said nothing. Sam could sense Dean was on overdrive. Sylvia was just Dean's type. She had long hair that looked like it was naturally blond, bright blue eyes, and a slender figure.

"I thought that hunters would have been here sooner. I mean, it's been two weeks."

That got Sam's attention, "You mean there aren't any hunters in Kermit?"

"Not since my grandfather, no."

Sam sat back and looked at his brother passing Dean the baton, their previous quarrel long behind them, "You don't hunt?"

Sylvia shook her head, "Grandfather didn't believe in bringing his family into the business."

"And it worked? You didn't get in any trouble?"

A shadow passed over Sylvia and her bright blue eyes darkened, "Yes. We ran into a bit of trouble. But that's expected." She said it like she'd rehearsed it.

"Sam…"

"I know." Sam looked to Myrtle who was picking up the cups and saucers.

Sylvia moved to help her but Myrtle clucked her tongue and said, "Sam, could you help take the things into the kitchen?"

Sam obliged and juggled the cup and milk jug while he followed Myrtle into the kitchen.

"Our life surprises you."

It wasn't a question but Sam felt the need to tell her that it was the kind of life Sam had always wished for.

Myrtle smiled. "It is possible to live as we do. My husband had faith. He taught us to protect ourselves and he loved us but when he would hunt, for all intents and purposes he was not married, and he did not have children or grandchildren. He was alone."

"I was raised in this life and I've never known anything else, save for the year I spent here last year when I thought my brother was dead. I thought it was too good to be true for someone in what Dean and I've always called 'the family business.'"

Putting a hand on Sam's shoulder Myrtle spoke, "You tell your brother, nothing lasts forever; even family businesses end. You can have a life beyond hunting."

"If we live long enough to see ourselves out of this holy mess." Despite the weight of Sam's words, he smiled at Myrtle and helped her organize the dishes into the old dishwasher. It was strange how Kermit seemed to bring out the domesticity in Sam Winchester and how it also brought out the idea of hope for the future.

Next: "We are lost."

"I am an angel."

"What the hell are you doing back in Kermit?"

"He did't look well."


	6. Chapter 6: Amelia

Juan was the guardian of heaven yet he'd been thrown out and stuck into the body of a French woman who would not shut up. It took all the reservation he had inside himself not to think about how much he hated how mundane and smelly humans were. His only reprieve was that this French woman, Elsie, smelled of flowers. That wasn't too bad.

"We are lost."

_Je sais_. _I know._

"Do you have any idea where we are?"

_Non. You are the one who can see from heaven_.

"Not any more."

_Pas plus?_ Juan sighed knowing her tone foreshadowed a long French rant._ What you mean? Je refuse d'être coincé comme ce pour toujours. Si vous dites que vous êtes un ange du Seigneur, un gardien du ciel, puis faire quelque chose. Vous ne pouvez pas simplement sauter dans mon corps et attendre de moi que d'être docile, tandis que je vous laisse marchent, Dieu sait où._

"Human—"

_ C'est incroyable._

"Human."

_Ma famille va penser que je suis mort. Je suis mort ? Que puis-je faire ? Je n'ai pas encore écrit mon testament ? Mes enfants n'auront rien !_

"Elsie, You are not dead. You will be with your family once more."

_Et vous voulez continuer à marcher?_ And so you want to just continue walking?

"We have no other choice. We must go through the motions."

_Pardon?_

Juan translated his words into French for his host. "Nous devons passer par les mouvements." He'd never known of an Angel being able to communicate so well with his vessel once it was inhabited.

_C'est incroyable._

_D'accord. _ Juan couldn't help but agree.

* * *

"I'm coming with you tonight," Sylvia said to Dean as the Winchesters were walking out Myrtle's front door.

"No. No way," Dean, ever the adamant protector liked this girl a lot and he was _not _going to let her kill herself.

"Come on. I haven't seen any real action in six years. I need this."

"My point exactly. I've never seen you fight and you haven't been out there in over half a decade."

"Sylvia turned to her grandmother, "Nana, tell Dean I am more than capable of handling myself."

"She is."

Dean raised his hands in exasperation, "We have no idea what's going to happen out there."

"All the more reason to have an extra pair of hands on deck."

Dean frowned he didn't want to give in.

"_Six years_, Dean. Please. I'm suffocating."

Something about Sylvia reminded him of Joe. It was the feisty eagerness to go on a hunt, the hair, and that blinding smile.

"Six years, eh. Kermit's a slow town?"

Both Sam and Sylvia agreed in unison. Dean, Myrtle, and Sylvia all looked to the youngest Winchester in slight surprise.

Sam quickly thanked Myrtle and walked down the driveway to rid himself from their knowing glances.

Dean took one look at his retreating brother and another at Sylvia then sighed giving in, "Fine. You can come. Meet us at Kermit City Park just before dark. Bring a fire extinguisher."

"Salt gun?"

"Won't work on them, Clarice. Angels are a whole new kind of crazy."

With his very clever Silence Of The Lambs reference, Dean tipped his non-existent hat and met his brother just around the corner.

"So, who exactly are we meeting at the diner, Dean?"

"A chick named, Amy. She refused to come to bed with me. I like that in a girl."

Sam scoffed, "Dean, please. Too much information."

Dean ignored his brother, "She's too good for me anyway. I could see her being into you though."

Sam turned to Dean, "So what's the point in this lunch thing if you're not interested?"

Dean shrugged, "Making friends."

* * *

_I walk a lonely road, the only one that I have ever known. Don't know where it goes, but its only me and I walk alone. _

"What is that?"

_Greenday, man!_

"I am an angel."

_But if I call you 'Angel' it sounds like I'm in love with you._

"Humans will never fail to perplex me." Serafil was getting tired of being dragged across Kermit. His human body was tired and hungry but no matter how hard he tried he could not pull away from his path.

_I walk this empty street on the boulevard of broken dreams, where the city sleeps and I'm the only one and I walk alone._

* * *

"Would you relax, Buzz Aldrin? You look as if you're ready to rocket away into space or something."

Sam was sitting across from Dean in the diner around the corner from their motel. His knees had been bouncing up and down since they settled into their booth and it was seriously starting to get on Dean's nerves.

"Don't you think we should be doing research or something? Sitting here just seems like a waste of time."

Dean scowled. "You know there's nothing for us to do until tonight. If you want, you can look at this lunch as research. We're gathering information from a local."

"We just had tea with two locals," Sam said scratched at his arms.

"Is it bothering you again?"

Sam put his face in his hands muffling his response, "It's tingling, that's all. I'm sure it's nothing."

Dean decided not to respond and left Sam to knead his face.

Something told him to turn around, not two seconds later. When he did, he saw Amy and waved her over.

"Hey, Charlie."

"Amy, you came!"

Sam's face slowly emerged from behind his hands; he looked stricken.

Amy turned to get a look at the big man in the corner and clutched the table absently.

Amy and Sam were both staring at each other intensely as if having a silent conversation, but they both looked liked they'd entered an episode of _Ripley's Believe It Or Not_. Dean wanted to know what the hell was going on.

"Sammy?"

Then suddenly, as if Dean had woken him up, Sam stood up and removed himself from the booth. "I think I'll just leave you guys here. I have to… er… go—"

Sam turned towards the exit but Amy caught his arm, "Sam, what the hell is this? What the hell are you doing back in Kermit?"

* * *

Amelia Richardson worked in a vet clinic. Amelia Richardson was divorced. Amelia Richardson lived in a motel… again. Amelia Richardson wanted to leave Kermit but she couldn't bring her self to go. Amelia Richardson was a liar. She hated the name "Amy," yet she didn't want to use the name that belonged to a person who'd been through so much heartache, repair, and ache again in the past two years.

And here he was: Sam Winchester, standing right in front of her. The man who filled and squashed her heart within the span of a single year.

"Sam, what the hell is this?" She had said to him in the diner, "What the hell are you doing back in Kermit?"

Sam stood before her stunned, guilty, and pale. He didn't look well. In fact, Amlia thought to herself, Sam looked like he'd been through hell and back.

Sam took his arm back to himself, gently, and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again the pain and sadness she saw in them was tantamount to what she imagined herself looking like when she was told her father had had a stroke.

"Look, Amelia. I'm sorry I didn't come back to you that night. I just couldn't."

Sam tried to walk away from her again but she stopped him, "Why?"

"It's beyond things I never want you to understand, Amelia." And with that, Sam walked out of the diner leaving her speechless in his wake.

Amelia hadn't noticed Charlie had gotten out of the booth too. He was standing right beside her when he said, "What the hell!" while looking at Amelia and then stormed out after Sam. Amelia felt as if her legs were made of jelly, but, somehow, she managed to follow suit.

* * *

Next: "Sam! Stop!"

"Sam's jaw dropped."

"Metatron took my grace."


	7. Chapter 7: Falling into Place

"Sammy! Sam! Stop." Dean gripped his brother's arm and Sam swung around with his other for a punch, which Dean ducked. "Stop."

"What?" Sam spat the word out though Dean knew Sam hadn't intended to.

Motioning to Amelia, who was standing just a few steps behind Dean, the elder Winchester spoke, "Whatever the hell this is, Sammy, you can't run away from it. What we do every day, what we did with Dad, what we're doing tonight, has got to be a thousand times worse than this."

Sam actually laughed but it was a restrained painful sort of sound, "_This_, Dean, is a life. A life I left. A life I abandoned for the one we are living in right now. You of all people should know this is much harder."

Amelia crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Well you've got to be here for a reason, Sam. I mean, come on. This is Kermit, we never see much action, and you know that. What job could you possibly have to do here?"

"You'd be surprised," Dean said under his breath.

Amelia looked at him and then back at Sam.

Sam took a step toward Amelia so that he was nearly shoulder-to-shoulder with Dean when Sam's jaw dropped.

Dean put his hand out to Sam, "You okay-"

But before Dean could finish Sam was walking past Amelia and onto the street, "Cass! You're okay!"

The two almost embraced but Sam easily leaned back and patted Cass on the shoulder instead. "What are you doing here?" Seeing his old friend seemed to brighten his mood.

Cass didn't answer he was looking behind Sam. When the younger Winchester turned around to see what had taken his attention he was surprised to see Dean fuming.

"What the hell, Cass? I've been calling you for weeks! Where the hell have you been?"

Cass shrugged, "I have no idea. I just felt like I needed to come here, to Kermit. I suppose I have good intuition."

"_Intuition_?! You're an Ang—."

"Dean," Sam warned his brother. "She doesn't know about this life," he said nodding is head to the side where Amelia was standing.

Now Cass stepped forward and cocked his head to the side, "Hello, Amelia."

Sam looked from Amelia to Cass and then back again, "You two know each other?"

Amelia looked shocked, "No. Never in my life…"

"I was watching over her, Sam. For you. After Perdition I just thought it would be something good to do after—"

Dean stepped forward now, "Screw all this, Cass. You're here now, finally, so _fix_, Sammy, okay."

"I can't, Dean."

"Fix Sam?" Amelia was beyond confused.

Dean let his hands rise and fall, "Oh, don't give me that bull, Cass. I know you can fix him. You fixed him after he nearly died after _you_ destroyed his wall. _You_ brought him back from Hell—"

"Dean!"

Amelia uncrossed her arms and said apprehensively, "None of this sounds figurative…"

"Don't you tell me, after all we've been through that you can't do anything to help him! As far as I know these trials are killing him!"

"Dean!" Sam wanted him to stop saying all of this in front of Amelia. He had no right to unravel everything Sam had fought so hard to wrap up.

But Dean ignored his little brother, "I know Sam doesn't act like it scares the shit out of him but you didn't see him last nigh, Cass. You weren't there when he—"

"Dean, I'm okay now. Would you just—"

"Sammy, shut up." Dean turned back to continue his speech to Cass but the Angel spoke before Dean could open his mouth.

"You're right. I have helped Sam before, Dean, but I was an Angel then."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Metatron took my Grace.

* * *

"That douchebag!"

Cass nodded, "He closed the gates to Heaven."

Sam snorted, patience depleted, "Cass, look I'm sorry about your Grace, I really am but can we talk about this somewhere else? The more Amelia knows, the more trouble she's going to be in."

As if remembering she was there, Dean turned around and covered his face with his hand muttering something under his breath.

"I don't think you have to worry about how much she knows, Sam." Cass spoke up, more confident now.

"What?"

Dean turned back around.

"I mean," Castiel stepped back, "She's here because of the Angels. I'm here because of the Angels and probably a lot more people are here that you know, Sam."

"Me? Why people that I know?"

"Because you are the one who's carrying the trials in you. The Angels want you to end it all and they're going to do it by showing you they know about _all_ the people you love."

"But I didn't finish the last trial…"

"You almost did and that's the problem."

Dean stood adamantly, "Naomi said she wanted the gates closed. They can't have that and they can't have my brother."

Cass sighed, "Naomi's dead, Dean. Metatron killed her. I doubt he'll want the gates closed."

"Then why threaten me when I'm doing exactly what they want? Nothing."

Dean knew the answer right away, "Because you hold the lives of love your friends and family above your own, Sammy, you always have. You don't have to be an Angel to know that."

"Sam, what's going on here?" Amelia put her hand on his shoulder but immediately stole it away again, "You're burning up!"

Dean tensed but Sam just shrugged, "I've been running a little hot lately."

And that was the end of that subject.

"What's going on here?" Amelia wasn't ready to give up on the strange conversation the three men were having.

Sam turned to her, "I honestly have no idea. If Cass is right, and you are here for a reason, then we might as well tell you _why_ but," Sam turned to Cass, "I still don't understand what they can threaten me with if I stopped the last trial anyway. I'm doing nothing in any way to complete it, they should be happy."

"I don't know, Sam. I wish I did, but I've failed again."

Sam sighed, "You always try to do what's right. I don't blame you."

"Well you should. You would have blamed me when you didn't have your soul. I still hate myself for breaking your wall. What it did to you, Sam, I just can't believe what I put you through."

"But you took on the burden for yourself, Cass. You helped me in the long run. The wall would have crumbled eventually."

Dean was sick and tired of all the mushy crap, "We need a place to regroup. If we get through this, you can have your chick-flick momen. Right now, we've got a band of angry angels on our tails."

Sam turned to Amelia who was looking at Sam like he was a new person, "Are you up for this?"

"Up for what?"

"Sam, you have to tell her."

He knew it was true. Sam sighed and closed his eyes, "Where do you live now?"

"The hotel."

Sam opened his eyes and smiled for a second and nodded. "Lets go."

* * *

Amelia watched him from behind, mind reeling: Sam. Sam. Sam. He'd changed; he seemed more mature, world weary, almost sad. Like his eyes were far too old for his age. He'd always looked older than he should when she knew him, but something drastic had changed him, she could tell. Whatever was happening to him and this Dean—who had told her his name was Charlie for some reason— fellow was serious and it scared her.

Sam looked good though, but then, he had never been hard to look at, all big hazel eyes and floppy dark hair that never seemed to stay in one place. He still wore his leather jacket, but she supposed he wouldn't be Sam without the jacket… or his flannel plaid army surplus outfits. She loved it. It was warm, and he always smelled like it had just rained in a field of wonderful musky summer things.

When they arrived to Sam's Impala, Amelia saw Dean hand Sam the keys, "You know where this hotel is, Sammy?"

Sam nodded.

"Take us there."

Sam looked genuinely surprised which, in turn, surprised, Amelia. _Doesn't the car belong to Sam?_

Sam got in the driver's side and Dean hopped into shotgun. Amelia sat as far as she could away from the man who admitted to stalking her and watched Sam maneuver through the streets of Kermit like he'd never left.

* * *

Next: "Tell her who you are"

"It took a moment for Dean to recognize her."

"You told me Dean was Dead"

"You're scaring me"


End file.
